


It's Hard To Say

by lost_under_the_surface



Category: My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Boyfriends, Bullying, M/M, Stuttering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:26:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24700801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_under_the_surface/pseuds/lost_under_the_surface
Summary: This was originally written on my wattpad @TheKeysmash.This is a stutter fic where Frank is one of the bullies. I'm doing a ferard fic because why not?(ferard, peterick, rykey, ryden, maybe some others if i decide to put them in.)started: may 27 @ 11:30 pm.finished: definitely not now
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz, Ray Toro/Mikey Way, Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	1. The Football Game

Gerard's pov

"Gerard!" Mikey shouts through my bedroom door. "Hurry up or we're gonna be late!"

"F-fine." I grumble, rolling out of bed. "D-don't get y-your k-knickers in a t-t-twist Mike's."

"Just hurry up." Mikey says before walking off. I can tell he's gone by his heavy footfalls on the stairs.

I don't get why he hates being a few minutes late most of the time. School, I get, but a football game? Really? Plus the game is in an hour, not five minutes like he makes it seem.

I quickly chance it of my pajamas into a t-shirt and jeans. After a moment of consideration, I great a sweatshirt and pull it on. It's probably going to be cold.

I have going to anything school related because the jocks will usually be there, depending on what it is. I have to go to this one because mom said I had to go with Mikey.

Since I have a stutter, I make an easy target. The jocks are the usual people, but occasionally a goth or a gamer will call me something. It also doesn't help that I'm emo and gay.

I'm not out about my sexuality to anyone except Mikey, who kinda guessed. Mikey knows almost everything about me. He knows what caused my stutter. He knows how badly I get beat up. He knows what I fear.

He knows more about me than I do.

I don't really have many friends. Mostly because people don't want to become targets.

The only people I really talk to are Mikey, Ray and Patrick.

"Gerard!" Mikey shouts, pulling me from my thoughts

"C-coming Mikes." I yell back as I jerk the door to my room open.

I walk to the bathroom and brush my hair and touch up my eyeliner before walking upstairs.

"There you are." Mikey says with relief.

" I-in the f-flesh. " I say with a small laugh.

" Let's go." Mikey says, opening the front door and walking out. I grab both the house keys and the car keys before following him.

I get in the car and put the key in the ignition. "Are you ready Mikey?" I always ask him that when we go out somewhere together.

"Fuckin ready." He answers. He always said that, unless mom is in the car with us.

As I pull out of the nature driveway, Mikey puts on a CD. It's Green Day. I smile.

"N-nice choice M-Mikes."

"Thanks Gee."

We don't talk the rest of the ten minute drive. It would've been less, but the traffic was shit.

When we get to the already crowded highschool formal stadium, it whatever the fuck you call it, Mikey leads me to where Ready and Patrick are sitting.

The bleachers are metal, meaning that they are freezing cold. I wish I'd brought more layers. I shiver as I sit down next to Patrick.

"You cold?" Patrick asks.

"Y-yeah. I-it's m-m-my fault f-for n-not wearing m-more l-l-layers." My teeth clack against one another.

"Lucky for you, I brought a blanket." Patrick says, reaching for his bag.

"T-thanks P-Patrick." I say as he hands me a pink fuzzy blanket. I wrap it around my shoulders.

Someone kicks me in the ribs. Hard. I turn around and see none other than Frank Iero. The ringleader of the assholes that beat me up.

I turn to Patrick. "What time is it?" I ask.

"Uhh," he checks his watch, "7:08" Time really had flown.

Patrick and I spend the next forty five minutes arguing about who would win in a fight, Caption America or Like Skywalker. Frank continues to kick me, but the only reaction I give is an occasional 'ow' and sucking in my breath b every time his sneaker makes contact with me.

If I give a different reaction, it'll get worse. I learned that the hard way.

At half time, I decide to get up and go to the bathroom. Mikey follows me.

I left the bathroom before Mikey and found myself yanked behind the brick building that the bathrooms are in.

"H-hey!" I shout before someone clamps a hand over my mouth. They shove me against the wall and step back.

I'm in the middle of a semicircle of guys.

"W-well l-look who we f-found." Frank mocks.

"Wasn't very hard." Pete Wentz says. Pete almost never hurts me or says anything. Now that I think about it, he hasn't touched me at all.

Frank walks towards me, cracking his knuckles. He shoves me at the wall. I stumble and fall flat on my ass.

"Can't even stay on his fucking feet." Bryar spits at me

" L-leave me a-alone. " I plead.

" H-how ab-bout, no." Frank says with venom. Then he kicks me in the hip.

Bryar steps forward and punches me in the face.

I curl into a ball. Protect head. Protect neck. Protect stomach.

I feel the hot tears burn behind my eyes as they kick me.

"Leave him alone." I hear someone shout. Patrick? The kicks stop. I look up. It is Patrick.

He walks over to me and helps me up. He glares 8cy daggers at the boys surrounding us. "Don't touch him again." Patrick spits at Frank.

I have never seen Patrick this pissed off before.

He leads me back to our place in the stands.

"Th-thanks Patrick." I mumble as I sit down.

"Of course. They had it coming." He still sounds mad

"What happened?" Ray asks.

"B-beat up." I say with a grimace as I check the damage done to my torso. It's already covered in bruises from yesterday and the day before and the day before and the day before, but I can tell I'm going to have more. It also has a bunch of small scrapes that are beaded with blood.

"How bad?" Ray asks.

I shrug, "Not as bad as it could've been."

This is when Mikey decides to make an appearance saying, "What the fuck Gerard? You shouldn't've left without me. "

" How bad is my face? " I ask Patrick, completely ignoring Mikey.

"Fucking ugly, as usual." Frank says from behind me.

"Oh fuck off Iero." Mikey knows how to say his last name, but says it wrong to make him mad.

"Fine." Frank turns away from us.

"It isn't that bad." Patrick says gently, "no blood."

I look down at my shirt, which is sticking to my skin because of sweat and blood. "C-can't say th-the s-same f-for the r-rest of me." I peel the shirt up and show him today's battle scars.

" You should get that bandages up." Ray, very helpfully, says. (Note the sarcasm)

"It's already stopped bleeding." Mikey says as he sits 9n the bleachers.

He was right, of course, there was no more blood leaking from the scrapes.

"Still....." Ray says, his voice trailing.

I pull my shirt back down.

Patrick and I strike up a new argument. This time it's who would win, Superman or Captain Marvel. Ray watches the game and Mikey talks to some of his friends.

When the game is over, Mikey and I walk to the car. I check the backseat before putting the keys in the ignition.

The drive home seems a lot longer than it usually does.

A/N: Heyo! I decided to write a new fic because I'm a fucking rat. Love y'all and happy pride month! XO - Lee


	2. Patrick is not Gerard's mother

Gerard's pov

I don't sleep much. I usually don't sleep well. Tonight is worse because of the storm. I can stand rain, but thunderstorms are absolute hell. I know it's irrational, but I can't fucking help it.

I think the fear came from my uncle being struck, which is statistically unlikely. The strike killed him. I was ten when it happened and the fear developed a month or so after, once the shock had finally gone away.

I usually listen to really loud music in my earbuds to drown out the noise, but I can't find my fucking earbuds. I tore apart my room looking for them, leaving a complete mess. After I couldn't find them I went to Mikey, but he was understandably asleep as it was midnight.

Following that, I had a mental breakdown and cried for an hour in my bed. Now I'm playing music through my laptop and scrolling through tumblr.

I have an art blog, so I can post my art. I don't usually get very many notes and that's okay. I had uploaded a picture of the drawing I did of Mikey and, HOLY SHIT. Apparently people liked this one. It had gotten 1,269 notes. I feel a huge grin spread across my face.

I screenshot it and send it in my group chat with Ray, Patrick, and Mikey.

Gerard: image  
sent at 1:07 am

Patrick: Did you draw that?  
sent at 1:09 am

Mikeyway: Gee, is that me?  
sent at 1:10 am

Gerard: Yes to the both of you.  
sent at 1:14 am

Ray: Nice art, but shouldn't we all be sleeping?  
sent at 1:17 am

Gerard: probably, but that doesn't mean we will. also mikey, i thiught u were asleep  
sent at 1:20 am

Gerard: *thought  
sent at 1:20 am

Mikeyway: well i was. until you woke me up  
sent at 1:23 am

Gerard: how'd i wake u up?  
sent at 1:24 am

Mikeyway: the freaking notif was loud  
sent at 1:24 am

Gerard: sorry  
sent at 2:30 am

I had waited a while to respond, hopefully I would piss him off because that's what every good brother does. I resume my scrolling through tumblr and notice I have a message. I frown and open it.

anonamoose: hey just wanted to say that you're really good at art and I hope you have a great day.

I smile.

muffin-man-art: awe, thanks dude!

I notice that the storm had stopped. Thank fuck. I turn off the music and put away my laptop. Looking around my messy room, I sigh. I'll just clean that up tomorrow. I return to my bed and curl up under one of my seven blankets. Maybe I'll get some sleep.

I did not, in fact, get sleep. My brain would not shut up.

With the sun rising, comes Mikey.

"Gerard!" He yells, "Geddup! We have plans today!" I groan into my pillow. I completely forgot we were going out with Patrick. We were going to a movie.

Freshman year, we would go out every Saturday and see a movie and get a fuck ton of candy.

I pull myself from the depths of my blankets and start to get ready. I pull on a pair of skinny jeans and a t-shirt before walking to the bathroom.

I brush my hair and shave my face before carefully applying eyeliner.

Yawning, I make my way upstairs. Patrick's already here. He's sitting at the table, eating a banana.

"Hey Gee!" Patrick says cheerily.

"H-how a-are you s-so aw-wake?" I grumble.

" Unlike you, I actually sleep." Patrick frowns.

I pour myself coffee. "I-It's too e-early f-for us t-to be arg-guing about sleep."

"No it isn't." Patrick gets up from the table to throw away his banana peel.

"I h-haven't had m-my c-coffee y-yet, so i-it is." I say before taking a sip of my coffee.

"Chill you two." Mikey says, his mouth full of fruit loops.

"Nah." I wave him off.

Once Mikey finishes his food, we go to the car.

"Did you eat anything?" Patrick narrows his eyes at me.

"I-I'll e-eat l-later." I say, which I know is a lie. I hardly eat.

We get in the car, fortunately for me, Patrick is driving today.

"Are you going to get something when we stop to get candy. Something healthy, I mean." Patrick pushes.

"Oh m-my g-god. Y-you a-are not m-my m-mother." I say, exasperated.

In short, Patrick nagged me for the rest of the day. I did end up eating something to make him quit. 

Patrick dropped us off at our house before he drove home.


	3. Hello there Mr. Wentz

Patrick's pov (switching it up here)

I pull into the driveway and turn off the car. Today had been fun. Mikey, Gerard, and I had gone and saw some movie, that I can't even remember the name of. Then, we had gone bowling (I had crushed them). We had stopped and gotten food from McDonald's before I dropped them off. I had made sure that Gerard had eaten something. Honestly, that boy worries me with his eating habits.

I get out of the car and walk inside. I frown at the two extra pairs of shoes by the door. "MOM?" I shout.

"Hey Patrick! I invited our neighbors over for dinner." Mom shouts back.

"Who-" I walk into the kitchen and freeze. Goddamn it. It's Pete Wentz. "Never mind." I glare at him. He's standing awkwardly in the kitchen next to his mom.

"Hi Patrick." He says quietly.

"Why don't you two go play one of those video games you have Patrick?" It's more of an order than a question.

"Fine mom." I look at Pete. "C'mon." He follows me to the basement.

"Woah." Pete says, marveling at the art on the walls. "Did you do these?"

"No."

"Who did them?" He studies some of the drawings.

"Gerard got bored." I turn on the T.V..

"Damn, the kid's good." Pete sits on the couch, still looking around at the walls. 

"Yeah." I throw a controller at him. "Mario Kart?" I ask.

"Fuck yeah." Pete grins.

"You are so going to lose." I smirk. No, this guy's an asshole. You can't be nice to him. He and his friends beat up Gee.

"Is that a challenge? Cause last time someone challenged me at Mario Kart, they lost by a lot."

I sit on the couch next to him. "Who was it?"

He looks at me, "Iero."

"Why?" I frown.

"Why what?" Pete furrows his brows. "Oh, you mean why he lost?"

"No," I sigh, "Why are you friends with those assholes? You seem so much nicer than them."

"Well, they weren't always assholes. They used to be nice." Pete runs a hand through his blonde hair. "Key word, used to. I've known them for a long time. Frank isn't that bad. McCracken and Bryar and the ones who started being assholes and they dragged Frank into it and well..." He trails off.

"You'd think Frank is the worst." I smile faintly.

"Well, he's not in a great place right now. He started doing, uhhh, well, umh, stuff he shouldn't be doing. Plus he's being blackmailed by his 'friends'." He puts the word in air quotes.

"'Bout what?" I ask.

"Not my place to say." Pete looks at the T.V. "You ready to lose?"

I can't help but grin, "Oh, you're going down Wentz."

Pete wins.

"Ha!" He shouts. "I told you you'd lose!" He looks really happy to've beaten me.

"I never said you would beat me." I grumble.

"You kinda did." His eyes glitter with amusement. He has pretty eyes. No, shut up. Shut up brain.

"You there?" Pete snaps his fingers.

"Yeah, what?" 

Pete laughs. It's adorable. Wait. No it isn't. "You were so staring." Pete says.

"Was not." I feel my cheeks grow hot as I look away.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand you're blushing." He pokes my face. I swat at his hand.

"Am not."

"Patrick I-" 

"Boys!" Mom shouts, cutting Pete off. "Time to eat."

"I already ate." I shout back.

"Doesn't matter, geddup here." She shouts back. I groan and turn off the T.V. 

Pete and I walk upstairs. Mom made breakfast for dinner. I sit at the table and cross my legs in the chair. Pete sits opposite of me. I was hoping he would sit next to me. Wait, no, no I wasn't. I hate you brain.

I stare at my hands, folded in my lap, for the entire time. Pete tries to talk to me, but I don't answer. I'm lost in my thoughts. Why was Frank being blackmailed? And for what? What was Pete about to say? Why do I care about him? He beats up my best friend. I guess I'll talk to my mom later.

I'm one of those weird teenagers that's really close with their mom. I tell her a lot of things. I go to her whenever something happens. When Gerard started stuttering, I told her. When I had my first panic attack, I went to her. When I started self harming, I talked to my mom.

She helped me through everything.

She's the reason I'm still alive.

My mom is the best mom. Fight me.

"Patrick." Mom says, snapping me from my thoughts. I notice that everyone is done eating.

"Yeah?" My voice cracks.

"You were zoning out." She says gently.

"When am I not?" I say with a laugh. Pete snorts, but quickly makes it seem like a cough.

"Why don't you and Pete go back to playing that game while I clean up and talk to Pete's mom." Mom says, getting up from the table.

"M'kay." I say and get up as well.

Pete and I walk back down to the basement.

"What were you gonna say before my mom called us up?" I ask as I turn the T.V. on.

"Oh, it wasn't important." I can tell that he's lying, but don't push it.

After a few more games of Mario Kart, Pete's mom tells him it's time to leave.

"Bye Patrick." He hands me a piece of paper with a number written on it. "Don't be a stranger." He laughs.

"See ya later than." I say and hug him. He had not been expecting me to hug him and had let out a squeak, that caused me to start laughing. He lightly punched my arm.

"See ya." He followed his mom out the door.

The second he's gone I turn to my mom. "Can we talk?"

A/N: Haha motherfuckers. I just had to end on a cliffhanger. Couldn't resist. I forgot to mention, this is soul punk era Patrick and blonde Pete. Revenge era Gee, Danger days Mikey and Frank. XO -Lee


	4. Patrick's mom rocks and pete wentz makes you lose sleep

Patrick's pov.

"Of course kiddo." Mom says with a smile.

"Well, I'm worried about Gerard."

"What happened now?" Mom sits down on the couch.

"Well, this is an ongoing thing that I've started to notice." I sit next to her and take a deep breath, "Gerard hasn't been eating very much and I'm really worried because he's dropping weight really quickly and he isn't healthy."

Mom looks worried. "Have you tried to talk to him about it?"

"Yeah, I keep trying to get him to eat, but he only does it to shut me up. I think it might come from those guys that beat him up. I've almost never been around when it's happened, so I don't know what they say to him."

"Have you tried to help him?" She asks.

"Yes. I have tried, but he doesn't want help. He doesn't listen to me mom." I feel the tears coming.

"Okay." Mom's tone is gentle and calming. "Has his brother tried?"

"Honestly, I don't know. Mikey knows almost everything about him, so probably." I sigh. 

"Okay. Is there anything else?" She knows. She always knows.

"W-well, there's this guy." I say. 

"Who?" Mom asks enthusiastically.

"I, umh."

"You don't have to tell me kiddo." She smiles warmly.

"Well, I think I like him, but I don't know. I hardly know him." I rub my face with my hand.

"Well, tell me 'bout him."

"He's nice when he's not around his friends. He has really pretty eyes, like really pretty. His hair is probably going to fall out if he dyes it again because it was black, then blonde, then pink, and it's back to blonde. He's really good at Mario Kart too." I use my hands as I talk.

"Sounds like someone I know." She smirks and looks at the door. "Do you have his number?"

She knows. She knows. 

"Oh yeah, I forgot that I have that." I shake my head. Of course she knows.

"Mhm." She grins. "You should make friends with him. Oh, and the Wentz's are coming over again tomorrow."

"Why?" 

"Because I invited them."

"M'kay. I'm going to bed." I do as I say and go upstairs and fall asleep the second my head hits my pillow.

frank's pov

My ringtone is the opening riff to Green Day's Holiday. I usually like it, but not when it wakes me up. I don't bother checking the caller ID. I know it's Pete.

"What do you want?" I grumble.

"You remember me telling you that I have a crush on someone?" Pete says.

"Mhm. Why are you calling me this late?"

"Dude, it's like 10:30."

"Exactly. I need sleep."

"Oh shut up. Anyways, turns out this guy is my fucking neighbor."

I sit up and yawn. "And?"

"His mom invited us over for dinner today and dude. His basement is so cool. You should see the drawings his friend did on the wall."

I groan, "Get to the fucking point Wentz."

"I think he likes me." 

"What has lead you to this thought?" I frown. I honestly don't give a shit. This bitch woke me up.

"He was staring at me and he blushed when I pointed it out. Plus, He wasn't mad when I beat him at Mario Kart."

"It's true love." I say, bored.

"I'm serious Iero."

"How did it take you this long to figure out he's your neighbor?" I stand up and pace my room.

"He always rides to school with friend or leaves before I do, I guess."

"Can I go back to sleep now?" I whine.

"No, lemme finish."

"When are you going to give me a name?" 

"I was about to, but then you fucking interrupted me." I can hear the frown in his voice.

"Who is it?" I ask, now he had my interest. I've only been trying to get him to tell me who it is for months.

"His name is Patrick." Pete mumbles.

"Wait. Patrick as in Patrick Stump?" I'm shocked.

"Yeah...." 

"I never would've pinned him as your type."

Pete laughs, "Well, at least I have a type."

"Oh shut up." I laugh. He was making fun of me because I've never dated anyone.

"You can go sleep now." Pete says.

"Fine, don't bother calling because I'm muting my phone." I hang up. That boy, I swear.

I try to go back to sleep, but after twenty minutes I know it's not happening. Fuck you Pete Wentz.

I pull out my laptop and open tumblr. I had gotten a reply from that art blog I had messaged earlier.

muffin-man-art: awe, thanks dude!

I smile. I honestly hadn't been expecting reply from him. He seemed like he wouldn't've answered. I don't know why.

anonamoose: Wanna be friends?


	5. Chapter 5

Gerard's pov.

As I'm uploading my drawing of Superman to Tumblr, I see a number 1 pop up on my message box. It quickly changes to 2.

I smile and open the messages.

anonamoose: wanna be friends?

anonamoose: shit, that made me sound like I was seven lmao.

I grin and quickly respond.

muffin-man-art: sure!

muffin-man-art: where in the world are you from?

I hum quietly and start scrolling through anonamoose's blog. Their bio reads: "sup bitch? i'm a minor you creep. 17. he/him. fuck you i do what i want. also i apologize in advance for whatever posts i make."

I laugh lightly as I notice his profile picture is a fucking moose with a goddamn mask on. Like what's his name from The Princess Bride. Wesley? Westley? My brain is too tired to remember. His banner is a middle finger emoji. Welp. Looks like such a nice guy.

A message appears in my box.

anonamoose: nice. I promise i'm not as much of an asshole as i seem in my bio. please don't hate me.

I shake my head.

muffin-man-art: no offense, but i've probably delt with ppl worse than u.

The dude responds immediately.

anonamoose: none taken lol. also I'm from Jersey.

I reread the message a few times.

muffin-man-art: Jersey as in New Jersey? 'Cause I live in NJ.

anonamoose: yes. Also, you're really good at art.

I blush.

muffin-man-art: what part of Jersey are you from.

muffin-man-art: I'm not that good at art.

anonamoose: for my privacy, I'm not telling you where in Jersey I live. Also, shut up, you're really fucking good at it. I wish I was talented like you. :'(

I roll my eyes.

muffin-man-art: you have some talent. everyone does.

anonamoose: that's bullshit.

I frown.

muffin-man-art: ThIs Is A cHrIsTiAn MiNeCrAfT sErVeR.

anonamoose: stfu

muffin-man-art: no u

anonamoose: fine then

muffin-man-art: wait, no, come back fren.

Twenty minutes pass and the bitch doesn't respond. I sigh.

muffin-man-art: :-(

muffin-man-art: come baaaaack

muffin-man-art: I know you're still online asshole.

After a while I message him back.

muffin-man-art: g'night moose.

muffin-man-art: that's what I'm gonna call you. I don't care if you tell me your name. You will always be moose.

I close my laptop and yawn. My stomach growls. Nuh uh. I already ate. I think about the three chicken nuggets I ate earlier. My stomach growls.

I get up and write down all I've eaten and drank today. Three chicken nuggets, apple juice, and a gallon of water. I yawn and put my notebook away.

I curl up on my bed and try to sleep. What's the point of staying awake if my new friend left me. I hope he comes back. He seemed nice. Kinda.

Frank's pov

I smile as I read the messages from muffin boy. He sounds like a good person. I decide to stalk his blog. Starting from the most recent post. It's Superman. The caption says, "got bored and decided to draw this dude. Don't repost without permission."

The next one was a blonde kid, sitting in a chair, back facing towards the artist, and playing a guitar. The caption says "here's my shitty drawing of my beloved little bro. he's pretty good at bass guitar. Don't repost without permission."

After that one is a cute photograph of two little kids clinging onto each other. They look like some kids at my school. The caption says, "It's been ten years since I met @mr.tree.stump hope you have a great day sir."

I smile. I wish I had friends like that.

I continue scrolling, but it takes a while to find more of his art. I had to scroll through so many memes.

This one is a drawing of a girl, her hair pulled up in pigtails. She's holding a guitar and jumping in the air, her legs tucked up. The caption says, "It's almost been a year since my bestie @hold-my-beer-while-i-kiss-ur-gf moved away. Miss you linds! Can't wait to see you perform next October. I'm sure the show will be fuckin crazy. Don't repost without permission."

I try to go to the blog he @ed, but it's been deactivated. Bummer.

The further I scroll into this kid's blog, the darker the posts get. Less memes and more suicidal stuff, more stuff about ED's.

I come across a drawing of a boy, but I can see the skeleton through the skin. The artist signed it with a simple 'G' in the bottom right corner.

The caption says, "Sometimes I think I'm getting better, but then I relapse. It's been six years. I want everything to be okay. I want my dad to be able to walk through the front door and hold me and Mikes like he used to. I want to turn back time, so I can change everything. Save my dad, save my uncle. This world is shit and I don't see much point anymore. If this is my last post I just wanna say. Mikey, you're the best little bro anyone could ask for. Patrick, please don't be mad. I'm sorry. Mom, I'll miss you. Those assholes at school, please leave the littles alone. Shit happens when you're a kid. Please don't make it worse. Lindsay, I'm really fucking sorry. XO - G"

I feel a tear roll down my cheek, surely everything was okay now, right?

I force myself to keep scrolling. The next one is a couple kissing. One of them has long, blonde hair, pulled into a ponytail. The other is a girl with hair, pulled into pigtails. The caption says, "Happy six month anniversary to my frens @hold-my-beer-while-i-kiss-ur-gf and @thatbitchstolemyweave. Y'all are too cute. Don't repost without permission."

I click on both @'s, but both accounts have been deactivated.

I've finally reached the end of this dude's blog. His first post had been a drawing of a Batman. The caption says, "Every time I think about Batman, I can't help, but to think of my amazing bestie @hold-my-beer-while-i-kiss-ur-gf. Can't wait till you get back from your trip to France. I am so jelly."

I smile. That's really sweet. I receive a message from muffin boy aka G. I open it.

muffin-man-art: g'night moose.

muffin-man-art: that's what I'm gonna call you. I don't care if you tell me your name. You will always be moose.

I smile. I like that nickname. Nicer than some of the others I've gotten through the years. I don't reply. I'll do that in the morning. I close my laptop and try to go back to sleep. I still hate Pete for waking me up.


	6. I hate school projects and shirts that don't fit right

Gerard's pov.

Surprisingly, I did get some sleep last night, but it didn't last. I wake up before my alarm would wake me up. I check the clock. 5:57. Dammit. I was having good dream too. It was about dogs.

I roll out of bed and walk to my closet. What to wear, what to wear?

I decide on jeans and a black t-shirt. I walk upstairs. I'm going to wake Mikey up.

I grin evilly as I quietly push his door open and creep towards him. He's still asleep. Bet. I jump on top of him and shout. "T-time to g-get up!"

Mikey shrieks and throws me off. I cackle as I lay in the floor.

"I fucking hate you Gerard." Mikey grumbles.

As I get to my feet, I wince. I had landed pretty hard on my back. I walk back downstairs to my room.

I wake my laptop up and open Tumblr. Moose still hasn't answered. I notice that he has a Twitter linked. Huh, didn't notice that earlier. I click on it.

He used anonamoose as his handle, but his title is Bitch Boy. I laugh. He hasn't posted or retweeted anything. I check when the account was made. Last Friday. 

I switch back to Tumblr and smile upon seeing Moose has messaged me.

anonamoose: m'kay, i decided to be a good friend and come back.

I shake my head.

muffin-man-art: asshole.

anonamoose: i can go away again, if you want.

muffin-man-art: no don't go fren!

anonamoose: my friend woke me up this morning to complain that he had to go to school.

anonamoose: i'm just here like, stfu. i have to go to school.

anonamoose: doesn't help that my 'friends' are blackmailing me.

muffin-man-art: why are they blackmailing you?

anonamoose: let's just say i don't live in the most accepting part of jersey.

muffin-man-art: that makes two of us.

anonamoose: also doesn't help that my mom is hella religious and her boyfriend is an asshole.

muffin-man-art: well, if you ever need somewhere to stay, text me.

anonamoose: i have a place i can go that's (probably) closer to where i currently live.

anonamoose: i gtg. school starts soon. i fucking hate high school.

muffin-man-art: my least favorite part is getting beat up daily because yay stereotypes!

Frank's pov.

I feel bad for this guy. I know I beat up Gerard daily, but that's because I'm being blackmailed. Fuck this fucking world. Poor kid.

anonamoose: ouch. how bad is it?

I get up and change into jeans and a red t-shirt. I frown at the shirt. It didn't fit right. "Fuck." I say under my breath. I pull off the shirt and feel revulsion fill my body. Not because of how I looked, but because I'm disgusted by the fact that I put those scars there. The scars have faded a lot in the last six months.

I pull on a yellow blink-182 shirt, which fits properly. Then return to my laptop.

muffin-man-art: it depends on the day. some are worse than others. Friday was p bad. I'm probably going to get beat up again today. Oh well, I'm used to it.

anonamoose: holy shit.

anonamoose: that's something that no one should get used to.

An image of Gerard flashes through my mind. It occurs to me that it's been years since I saw him without some sort of injury. I feel guilty. I did that. I beat him up. I want to puke.

muffin-man-art: yeah.

muffin-man-art: well, I gtg. My little bro is pissed at me because I woke him up.

anonamoose: talk to you later then.

muffin-man-art: sure! ʘ‿ʘ

I shut my laptop and walk upstairs. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Antony is up. I wish my mom would date someone other than that fucker.

"Morning Frankie boy." Antony shouts at me.

"My name is Frank. Not Frankie boy." I say through gritted teeth.

"Whatever you say Frankie boy. Make me food." He orders.

I cross my arms, "You can make your own food." Bitch.

"What did you just say to me?" Antony gets up from the table and walks slowly towards me, cracking his knuckles.

"I said," I say slowly, "'You can make your own food.'"

Antony slaps me across the face. "That, was for not obeying me." He slaps me again, "That was for being a little bitch." Another slap, "That was for talking back." Another slap. I feel a warm trickle of blood roll down my cheek. "That was for being a burden to you mother."

I duck underneath his arm and make a run for the back door. I grab my bag as I run by it. I can hear Antony behind me. Fortunately, the door is unlocked, so I can open it easily.

I jerk the door open and run faster. Antony might've been on the football team when he was in highschool and college, but he was old. I make my way to Pete's house.

Patrick's pov.

I glance out my window just in time to see a sweaty, disheveled Frank Iero walking up to Pete's house. Huh. Oh well.

Gerard's pov.

Seventh period is usually my favorite class, but not today. I got beat up in the bathroom and everything hurts. I just want to go home and talk to moose.

"Okay guys." Mrs. Williams says. I look up from my sketchbook. I had been drawing a pink fuzzy creature. "We are going to start a project today. You will be working in pairs." I look over at Patrick, who grins at me. "For this project I decided to put you with someone who you don't normally talk to in my class." The class all makes various sounds of disapproval.

"Mr. Stump and Mr. Wentz. Ms. Nestor and Mr. Urine. Mr. Dun and Mr. Toro. Mr. Joseph and Mr. Hurley. Mr. Urie and Mr. Ross. Mr. Way, uhh Mikey, and Mr. Peliessier. Mr. Way and Mr. Iero." I have no idea what she said after that because everything sounds like it's underwater. Breathing is hard. How am I supposed to do a fucking project with the worst thing that has ever happened to me?

Half an hour later, I have Frank's number so we can figure out when we have to work on the damn project.

I had to ask Mikey what the project was. "It's a photography thing." He had explained, "basically you have to take pictures of things that are important to you." Great just great.

I walk to a coffee shop that I've never been to before and get a drink. I sit down in one of the booths. After a little while, a very familiar person slides into the booth across from me.

"Hey Gee." She says with a grin.


	7. Chapter 7

Frank's pov.

I inhale sharply. Gerard is the guy I've been talking to. The fuck? I reach for my phone and call Pete. He doesn't pick up. I call again. No answer. I call once more and he picks up.

"Dude, I was in the middle of a Mario Kart game. What do you want?" Pete sounds annoyed.

"I can't stay here anymore. Not while Antony is around. Can I crash at your place for now?"

"Yeah, of course. Do you want me to come get you?"

"No, don't pick me up. I'll just sneak out, like I usually do. Also, I'm bringing Pansy." I put the neatly folded clothes into the duffel bag and zip it up.

"Who?"

"My guitar." I cross the room and take Pansy off the stand.

"I thought you quit playing."

"I quit playing when people are around." I grab the case from my closet and put Pansy in it.

"Ohhh. Do you need me to get you stuff?" Pete asks.

"Shaving cream and a toothbrush would be great." I let out a small laugh.

"M'kay." Pete hums quietly.

"So, I met this guy on Tumblr." I make my way to the bathroom.

"Oooooh, do tell."

"He's really nice and good at art. No, not good, fantastic." I smile and grab my toothpaste, razor, and my 3 in 1 hair thing. I honestly have no clue what to call it.

"Andddd?"

"Damn it Pete you're so pushy. He does a lot of drawings of his friends. Oh, and he lives nearby." I return to my room and put the items I had collected into a gallon sized Ziploc bag before putting them in the front pocket of my backpack. I'm only bringing the bag so I have a tad bit more space for other things.

"How do you know he lives nearby?" I can hear the stupid grin in his voice.

"Because I know who it is." I scan my bookshelf and pick a few books and sticking them in my bag.

"Nice."

"No, not 'nice' he hates my guts." I unplug my laptop and put it and the charging cord into my backpack.

"Oof, that sucks."

"Yeah." I sigh and look around my room for things I might need or want. I grab my switchblade and a few pens. I stick the knife in my pocket and the pens in my backpack.

"See you in a few?"

"Yeah."

He hangs up.

How am I supposed to carry all this stuff?

I walk to the window and open it. I look down. I can't drop all my stuff down there. I grab the duffel bag and drop it out. I consider the backpack for a while before deciding to put it on my back. I grab the guitar case and slowly lower myself out the window.

It's a lot harder than I thought it would be.

I land funny on my left foot and it hurts like hell.

I grab the duffel bag and make my way to Pete's house.

Patrick's pov.

I watch Pete talk to his friend on the phone. I can't tell what he's saying. I yawn and lay down on the couch.

Once Pete ends the call, he walks back over to me. "I gotta go 'Trick. My friend needs to stay at my house and it'll be weird if I'm not there when he gets there." Pete manages to sit on the edge of the couch next to my chest.

I nod. "M'kay. You want me to come with?"

Pete smiles, "You probably don't want to be near this friend, but if you want to."

I yawn and stretch before asking, "Which friend?"

Pete turns his face away from mine, "Frank."

"Oh. I still wanna come." I can see Pete smile, even though he isn't facing me.

"Okay then. Let's go." Pete stands up and turns to face me.

I get up, "Lemme get something first." My phone buzzes. I pull it out of my back pocket.

Geeway: guess who I saw today.

Patrick: Whoooooooooo?

Geeway: Lindsay

Geeway: don't tell Mikey.

Patrick: don't worry. I won't.

Patrick: what's she doing around here?

Patrick: that sounded rude. I am sorry

Geeway: dude, you apologize too much.

Geeway: she's moving back here.

Patrick: cool. I gtg.

Geeway: aight. See you tomorrow @ school

Patrick: see you then. :))

Geeway: :)))

I turn off my phone and walk to the stairs.

"Who was that?" Pete asks.

"Gerard. He met up with one of his friends, so he just haaaad to tell me about it." I grin.

I shove the door to my room open and begin my search for my fedora.

"Woah." Pete turns in circles, looking at Gerard's art on my walls. "Nice flag." He grins at me.

"What? Oh, thanks." He's talking about my rainbow flag.

I finally find my fedora and turn back to Pete. He's staring into space. "Earth to Pete." I say, snapping my fingers by his ear.

"You ready 'Trick?" He smiles.

"Mhm." I nod and put the fedora on my head. "Let's go."

We walk over to his house in a comfortable silence. He pushes open the front door and shouts, "I'm back." 

"Hey Pete." His dad says, as we walk into the kitchen. "Who's your friend?"

"Patrick. I live next door." I say with a grin.

"Nice to meet you Patrick." Mr. Wentz starts emptying the dishwasher.

"Hey dad, Frank's going to be staying here until his mom comes back. That's Friday, by the way." Pete pulls out his phone.

"Okay. At least it's not one of the other guys you hang out with. Those dude are assholes."

Pete laughs, "Yeah, they are."

I smile at him. He notices me looking at him and turns his face away, blushing. He's so adorable. 

Wait. What?

Someone knocks on the front door. "Frank." Pete says and walks to the front door. I can't see Frank, but I hear Pete say, "Oh my god, what happened to you?"

I get up and walk to where I can see Frank. Holy smokes. He looks awful.

"Antony." Frank says, his voice cracking. "He slapped me until I couldn't see straight. Not that I see straight normally." He notices me over Pete's shoulder and raises an eyebrow, "It's good to see that you're making friends."

"We gotta get you cleaned up. 'Trick," Pete turns to me, "could you get some ice?"

"Mhm." I nod and return to the kitchen.

Pete's pov.

"C'mon dude." I walk towards the bathroom. All of our medical stuff is in there.

"So, you and Patrick are getting along well." Frank grins.

"Oh shut up." I shake my head.

"So, you remember the guy I told you about?" Frank asks, hoping onto the counter.

"How could I forget?" I grin as I take out the first aid kit and baby wipes.

"Well, I saw him earlier."

"Mhm, anything happen?" I throw the wipes at him.

"Well, he and his friend, well pretty sure she's his girlfriend, kinda stopped and stared at me." Frank turns so he's facing the mirror and starts cleaning the dried blood off his face.

"Oof, straight and taken, that's the worst." I shake my head and lean against the wall.

"He's pan. What about your guy? Is he straight, taken, or both?"

"Well, he isn't straight, but I don't know about taken." I hum quietly.

"Give me the first aid kit." Frank gingerly touches his face, which had started bleeding again.

"What sparked him this time?" I hand him the kit.

"Talked back, swore, and didn't get him a beer." He shakes his head, "I hate that asshole. I miss my mom."

"She'll be back Friday."

"I'm gonna tell her it's me or Antony. I could lose the only family I have left Pete." Tears start to roll down his cheek.

"She will choose you Frank. Don't worry. I'd choose my kid over an asshole boyfriend."

Frank smiles weakly, "It's like I hardly know her anymore. She doesn't call. She doesn't write. She's hardly home. Fuck it, she might have another family on the other side of the country for all I know. I don't know if she'd choose me."

Frank starts to apply the antibacterial cream to his face. "It's just," he sighs, "I'm a fucking mess." He shakes his head.

"We're all messes in our own way. I mean, look at me, I'm an emotional wreck that can make up his mind about almost anything."

"At least you have parents that actually give a shit about you. My dad left when I was three and my mom is hardly around." He shouts.

After a pause he says quietly, "Sorry for yelling."

"It's fine Frank," I rub my face, "Better to yell at me than Antony because I won't hurt you. I don't think I'm capable of hurting anyone."

Frank smiles, "You got a point there. Do you know how long it'll take for the bruises to fade?"

I shake my head, "No. Patrick might."

"What might Patrick might?" Patrick asks, pushing open the door.

"Know how long it'll take for the bruises to fade." I say.

"Ah, yeah, no, I've got no clue. Google it."

"Thanks Patrick." Frank says, putting a bandage on.

"Here," Patrick hands him a plastic bag full of ice, "This should help with swelling."

"Thanks again." Frank turns back around and gets off the counter, "I'm guessing I'm staying in the guest room."

"I mean, it's probably more comfortable than my floor." I shrug.

"M'kay." Frank walks out of thee bathroom, leaving Patrick and I alone in the room.

"You're a good friend Pete." Patrick says.

"It doesn't feel like it most of the time." I sigh and put away the first aid kid, which Frank had left on the counter among all the band aid trash.

"Well, you are." Patrick says. I see him smiling at me in the mirror.

"Thanks 'Trick." I smile back at him.

"We should start on that project tomorrow." He says.

"But it's due at the end of thee quarter. That's a month." I complain.

"And your point is?" 

I shake my head, "Dude, that thing takes, like, a day or two to finish." I walk out of the bathroom and Patrick follows.

"But the sooner we get it done, the more time we have to make it perfect." 

"Fine. You wanna watch a movie?" I ask.

"You are changing the subject, but yes." Patrick grins.

"Do you want to wait for short shit to come downstairs?" I ask.

"Hey!" Frank shouts, sliding down the banister, "I am the only one allowed to make fun of my height. What were you waiting on me for?"

"We're gonna watch a movie." I tell him.

"Okay. What movie?" He hops off the banister.

"Dunno." I shrug.

"I gotta tell my mom I'm over here." Patrick says, absentmindedly, as he pulls out his phone.

"M'kay." 

"Let's watch Mean Girls." Frank suggests and starts towards the living room. 

"No." I declare, following him, "We've watched that movie too many times." I hear Patrick stifle a laugh behind me. 

"Bee movie?" Frank asks.

"No."

"What about Shrek?" Patrick suggests.

"Oh my god. You two are unbearable." I state.

"Hmm, what about Princess Bride?" Frank asks, after a moment.

"Sure, what do you say 'Trick?" I turn towards him.

"Okay." Patrick grins at me.

"Princess Bride it is."


End file.
